ELSA muttered. “We’re just trying to help.” “No, Sir LaFey, we’re not. Not really—and I’d imagine she’s less stubborn than she is frightened.” Lucas folded his hands together and sought the naether, drawing it into a crown around his head. “I must think. Keep an eye on her, as quietly as you can. Don’t let her get lost.” His words slowed as the crown tightened to his brow. “We may still have… need of… her.” Lost in the meditative trance of the naether crown, Lucas’s motions slowed to a crawl, and then froze, his mouth hanging open at an undignified angle. Elsa sighed, walked to the old man and pushed his jaw shut with a clap. Then she gathered some food from her bag, slung her sword belt over one shoulder, and went to find the huntress. * * * Gwen wandered a moonlit trail that led from the clearing to a small brook, and from there to a scattering of hovels that must have been where the dead wardens had lived. The contents of the fire pit had been spread out, and their provisions placed outside the tiny huts, offerings to the wilderness.
